Searching for Nova Read online

  Searching for Nova

  Kai Juniper

  Contents

  1. Nova

  2. Easton

  3. Nova

  4. Nova

  5. Nova

  6. Easton

  7. Easton

  8. Nova

  9. Nova

  10. Easton

  11. Easton

  12. Nova

  13. Nova

  14. Nova

  15. Easton

  16. Nova

  17. Nova

  18. Easton

  19. Easton

  20. Nova

  21. Nova

  22. Easton

  23. Easton

  24. Easton

  25. Nova

  26. Easton

  27. Nova

  Sneak Peek of Don’t Try Me

  Books by Kai Juniper

  Searching for Nova

  By Kai Juniper

  Copyright © 2021 Kai Juniper

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Waltham Publishing, LLC

  Cover designed by Marisa Wesley of Cover Me Darling

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, things, and events are fictitious, and any similarities to real persons (live or dead), things, or events are coincidental and not intended by the author. Brand names of products mentioned in this book are used for reference only and the author acknowledges that any trademarks and product names are the property of their respective owners.

  The author holds exclusive rights to this work and unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book is to be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  1

  Nova

  “You better get out there,” Mara says as she races past me to pick up an order. “More people just came in.”

  “I thought we were closing.” I wipe the sweat off my forehead as I watch Mara load up a tray with plates of food from under the warmer.

  “Lenny said we’re staying open late.”

  “How late?”

  “Midnight. Maybe later.” She comes up next me, supporting the tray on her shoulder. “That haunted house down the street keeps bringing people in and Lenny doesn’t want to miss out on the sales.” She races back out to the dining area.

  It’s Halloween and high school kids have been filling the place up all night, making a mess and laughing as they watch me clean it up. They’re such jerks. I’m in high school too, but I wouldn’t purposely throw food all over the place just so someone else would have to clean it up.

  Grabbing a rag and the plastic bin I use for dishes, I take a deep calming breath and walk out to the dining area.

  “Shit,” I mutter. The place looks like a tornado tore through it. Chairs are turned on their side. There’s a spilled milkshake making a trail across the floor. A piece of wilted lettuce is stuck to one of the light fixtures. And I’m pretty sure I just saw a hamburger bun fly across the room.

  My break was only ten minutes. How could it get this bad in such a short amount of time?

  A guy walks by me with a torn shirt and fake blood all over his face. Almost everyone here is wearing a costume. Most of the guys are either zombies or athletes and the girls are witches, fairies, or whatever costume includes a skirt that barely covers their ass. And then there’s all the props. Before my break, I got hit with a fake sword on my way to a table.

  “What the—” I stumble back as something wet and hard smacks against my face. Looking down where it landed, I see a giant pickle, like the kind they sell at the fair. Someone must’ve brought it because the diner only has pickle slices.

  “Oh my God, you hit that girl!” a voice shrieks. It’s followed by an outburst of laughter.

  “You okay?” Mara says, coming up to me, holding a now empty tray.

  “I’m fine,” I say, looking past her to see who threw the pickle. I can’t tell. The place is too crowded, every table overflowing with costumed people who look drunk, high, or both. “Where the hell is Lenny?”

  “He went to get more burgers. We ran out.”

  “Then tell Don to get out here and deal with this shit.”

  “He can’t. He can barely keep up with the orders.”

  “Why is it so busy tonight? That haunted house has been open for weeks.”

  “Yeah, but tonight it’s free. You’re supposed to leave a donation for the food bank, but I doubt anyone here did. I gotta go. Orders are backing up.” She races to the kitchen.

  Two waitresses called in sick tonight, along with one of the cooks. They must’ve known it’d be crazy and decided not to show up. With three people out, we’d be shorthanded on a normal night, but tonight? It’s not even possible to keep up. I’ve been running around nonstop since I got here and the place is still a mess.

  “Miss!” a girl yells over the noise. So many people are talking and screaming, it sounds like a sports stadium. “Hey! Could you clean this up?”

  I look around and see a girl attempting to stand up in a booth as she waves at me. She’s got long, wavy red hair swept to one side, and is wearing a white button-up shirt that’s been tied in a knot just under her boobs, leaving her midriff exposed.

  Taking another deep calming breath, I make my way over to her table. I quickly get to work cleaning up the mess they made, keeping my head down, not wanting to interact with them.

  As I’m gathering the dirty dishes, one of the guys says, “You want one?”

  I glance up and see a guy with spiky blond hair and a nose ring offering me a giant pickle, like the kind that just hit my face.

  “I’ll pass,” I mutter as I stack dirty dishes in the bin.

  “You don’t like it?” the guy says, waving the pickle in my face.

  I don’t answer as I get out my rag and wipe the table.

  “Just give it a taste,” he says, putting the pickle right in front of my mouth.

  “Jace, stop,” the girl next to him says as she laughs.

  “Yeah, you’re scaring her,” one of the other guys says. “She’s probably never had one that big.”

  They all laugh. If I didn’t need this job so bad, I’d take these dirty dishes and dump them on their privileged little heads. I know they’re privileged because one of the guys is wearing a Fairmont jacket. Fairmont is a private school on the other side of town where all the rich people live with their spoiled rotten kids.

  “C’mon,” the guy with the pickle says. “Just one little lick? You might like it.” He puts it against my mouth.

  I shove it away, grab a dirty knife from the bin, and point it at the guy’s face. “I said I don’t want it.”

  He grabs my wrist and yanks the knife from my hand, his eyes bearing down on me. “Then you’re not getting a fucking tip, bitch.”

  I’m the dish girl. I don’t get tips. But I don’t bother telling him that. He’s clearly too stupid or drunk to understand. He’s wearing a hockey jersey, which I guess is his costume, and has fake blood all over his face.

  “Just let her go,” I hear one of the guys say.

  I keep my eyes on Pickle Guy and wait for him to release my wrist. When he finally does, I grab my bin of dirty dishes and turn to leave. I’ve barely made it two steps when my foot hits something slippery on the floor. It happens so fast I can’t catch myself. I fall flat on my ass, the bin of dirty dishes landing beside me, plates flying out and crashing against the tile floor.

  Cheers erupt, along with clapping and high-pitched laughter from the girls at the table I just left.

  “Hey, it’s not funny,” a guy says in a deep voice. “She might be hurt.”

  “She’s fine,” one of the girls says as she laughs.

  “There goes Easton.” It sounds like Pickle Guy’s voice. “Always go
tta be the hero.”

  “Easton, she’s fine,” a girl says.

  I’m trying to get up, but sharp pain shoots through my back every time I try to stand. I just need to fight through it. I can’t stay here on the floor with everyone laughing at me.

  “Need some help?” a guy says.

  I look up and see a guy with dark blond hair and dark eyes staring down at me, holding out his hand.

  “I’m good,” I tell him, not trusting that he’ll actually help me. Given how his friends treated me, he’s probably just playing a joke where he’ll offer me his hand and then drop me just as I’m about to get up.

  “You sure?” he asks. His concerned expression actually seems sincere, but I’m sure he’s just a good actor. He’s wearing a hockey jersey like Pickle Guy’s, but doesn’t have the fake blood on his face. “That was a bad fall.” He reaches under my arm and starts lifting me up.

  “I said I’m good!” I glare at him.

  “If you were good, you wouldn’t still be on the floor.”

  “Easton, leave her alone,” a girl says. I glance up and see the girl with the red hair giving an angry look to the guy who’s helping me. “You better get your ass back here or you’re not getting any tonight.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I hear Pickle Guy say with a laugh. “You give it to him even when you’re pissed at him.”

  “And how the hell would you know?” she shoots back.

  The guy who was helping me stops a moment. I look up and see him staring at me.

  “Are you gonna help me or not?” I ask.

  He’s still staring at me. “Nova?”

  I stare back at him, wondering how he knows my name. Then I remember I have a name tag on.

  “Just forget it. I don’t need help.” I shove him away and push up from the floor, cringing at the pain shooting through my back. I grab the bin of dishes and make my way through the diner, getting bumped around by stumbling drunk people.

  “Nova!” I hear the guy yell.

  I ignore him and continue through the kitchen door, straight to the dish machine. As I’m unloading dishes, I see a tomato slice stuck to my t-shirt. It’s thin and slimy and the seeds are sticking to my shirt.

  “Disgusting,” I mutter, peeling the tomato off me and tossing it in the trash.

  “Nova!” Mara yells as she races to get more plates from under the warmer. “Some guy out there is asking for you.”

  “Tell him to go to hell!” I yell back as I load dishes through the machine.

  “You sure? He’s really hot.”

  I look over and see her smiling at me. The guy was kind of hot, but I’m not looking for a date, and besides, he has a girlfriend—a mean bitch who yelled at him for helping me.

  “You can have him,” I tell her.

  “Tony probably wouldn’t go for that,” she says with a laugh as she races back to the dining room. Mara’s 21 and just moved in with Tony, her boyfriend. He’s a mechanic and comes here all the time for lunch, which is how he met Mara.

  “Nova!” Lenny barks from behind me. “Get your ass in the dining room! It’s a fucking mess!”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  He shoves an empty dish bin at me. “Take this and get out there! You can empty the other one later. Hurry up!”

  “I should be getting paid extra for this,” I mutter as I walk off.

  “What was that?” Lenny yells.

  “Nothing!” I yell back.

  I hate Lenny, but he gave me a job when no one else would. Ted’s actually the one who got me the job. He’s friends with Lenny. Last spring, they were playing poker and Ted made Lenny promise to give me a job if he won. A week later, I was cleaning up dirty dishes for $9 an hour. It’s more than Lenny wanted to pay, but it was part of the deal Ted made. The more I make, the more Ted gets, since he takes a cut of whatever I make. Most grandfathers want to spoil their grandkids with gifts or money, but mine makes me cook for him, clean up after him, and give him part of my paycheck.

  “Hey!” I hear someone yell as I pile plates in the bin. I glance back and see that guy again, the one who helped me off the floor, coming toward me. What the hell does he want? Why won’t he leave me alone?

  I turn away from him, toss the last remaining plates in the bin, and take off.

  “Nova, wait!” He chases after me, grabbing my arm right as I’m about to go in the kitchen.

  I whip around to face him. “Let go of me or I’ll get my manager out here.”

  Lenny’s the manager, and the owner. He wouldn’t care if some guy is harassing me, but I’m hoping the idea that he might will be enough to make this guy leave me alone.

  “I just want to talk to you,” the guy says, letting go of my arm.

  “I don’t have time to talk. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little busy.” As I say it, I notice a group of vampires walking in—five tall, skinny guys who look they’re probably around 16. Why are these people still dressing up for Halloween? I haven’t done that since I was six, and even then, Ted said I was too old.

  “Then I’ll come back tomorrow,” the guy says. “Will you be here?”

  I look back at the guy. He looks kind of familiar, but I don’t remember seeing him before, not here at the diner. Maybe I’ve seen him somewhere else.

  “Easton!” a girl yells.

  He looks back at his scarlet-haired girlfriend. She’s standing at the door, along with the rest of his friends.

  “You should go,” I tell him. “Your girlfriend’s getting impatient.”

  “I’ll meet you outside!” he yells at the girl.

  “I have to go.” I turn to leave, but hear him behind me.

  “Nova, it’s me.”

  There’s something about his words, and the way he says them, that makes me freeze in place. I have no idea why, or why I’m having this strange tightness in my chest.

  I whip around and glare at him. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but I don’t have time for it. I don’t know who you are and why you keep harassing me but—”

  “Nova, it’s me. Sean.”

  Our eyes lock and that tightness in my chest feels more intense, like something’s gripping my heart, squeezing it, making it hard to breathe. Why am I reacting like this? It’s not him. It’s obviously a joke. A sick, twisted joke that this asshole and his spoiled rich friends from Fairmont High came up with to mess with me. But how would they know? They don’t know who I am or where I’m from. They don’t anything about me.

  The guy’s girlfriend runs up to him and grabs his arm. “Would you hurry up? We’re all waiting!”

  He glances at her, then back at me. “I’ll see ya later.”

  I watch as he leaves. He’s tall, like 6’2 or 6’3, and has thick shoulders and a broad chest. The Sean I knew was short—shorter than me—and skinny. Then again, he was only five, but still, if I were to imagine him now, he wouldn’t look like the guy who just left.

  It had to have been a prank, but how did he know? How did he know about Sean?

  2

  Easton

  I just saw Nova. How is that possible? Was it really her? I’ve searched for her for years, looked her up online. But I couldn’t find anything, not even one social media account. It’s like she didn’t exist.

  When I turned 16 and got my driver’s license, I drove back to the town where we met, thinking she might still be there. I walked around the small downtown and asked people if they knew her, but nobody did. Then I went to the house. Just walking up to it had me feeling as nervous as the day I arrived there as a scared little kid. Then I felt this overwhelming sadness, remembering the day I left.

  The lady who answered the door was someone I’d never seen before. She explained she was the new owner and that she bought the place ten years ago. She knew nothing about the previous owners or any of the kids who had lived there.

  I’d hit a dead end. Again. I left there thinking I’d never find Nova. That was almost t
wo years ago, and I haven’t looked for her since. And then tonight, she shows up at our table, at a shitty diner in a shitty part of town that we only we went to because of some stupid haunted house.

  Paris was the one who insisted we go there. She loves shit that scares her. Scary movies. Haunted houses. Rollercoasters. She says it makes her horny, but she’s that way even without that stuff. The girl wants sex all the time, which makes me wonder if she’s cheating on me. We do it whenever we go out, but sometimes that’s only a couple times a week, which isn’t enough for her.

  “I can’t wait any more,” Paris whispers in my ear as she runs her hand up my leg. She rubs my cock. “I want you so bad.”

  “Later,” I tell her, moving her hand off me. We’re in the third row of Jace’s SUV. It’s too dark for anyone to see anything, but I’m still not doing it with everyone in the car. And I’m not in the mood. My mind is on Nova. I can’t fucking believe she was there, working at that diner. When did she move to Milwaukee? Has she been here for years and I just didn’t know?

  What if she has? What if this whole time I’ve been searching for Nova she’s been right here in town? I don’t know how I would’ve found her since she’s not online. I never would’ve gone to that diner if Paris hadn’t made us go to that haunted house. I tried to get her to go to the one that’s close to our school, where there’s little to no chance of us getting stabbed or shot, but she insisted we drive across town, the part of town known for its high murder rate. When I told her that, she didn’t care. Nobody else did either. They still wanted to go.